whimsical dragon

by Bill Tiepelman

The Faerie and Her Dragonette

Wings, Whispers, and Way Too Much Sparkle “If you set one more fern on fire, I swear by the Moonroot Blossoms I will ground you until the next equinox.” “I didn't mean to, Poppy!” the dragonette squeaked, smoke curling from his nostrils. “It looked flammable. It was practically asking for it.” Poppy Leafwhistle, faerie of the Deepwood Glade and part-time chaos manager, pinched the bridge of her nose — a move she’d adopted from mortals because rubbing your temples is apparently not enough when you're bonded to a fire-prone winged gremlin with scale polish and an attitude. She’d rescued the dragonette — now called Fizzletuft — from a rogue spell circle in the north fen. Why? Because he had eyes like sunrise, a whimper like a teacup, and the emotional stability of a wet squirrel. Obviously. “Fizz,” she sighed, “we talked about the sparkle restraint protocols. You can’t go around flaring your tail every time a leaf rustles. This isn’t drama class. This is the forest.” Fizzletuft huffed, his wings fluttering with a rainbow shimmer that could blind a bard. “Well maybe the forest shouldn’t be so flammable. That’s not my fault.” The Trouble with Moonberries They were on a mission. A *simple* one, Poppy had thought. Find the Moonberry Grove. Harvest two berries. Don’t let Fizz eat them, explode them, or name them “Sir Wiggleberry” and try to teach them interpretive dance. So far, they had located zero berries, three suspiciously enchanted mushrooms (one of which proposed to Poppy), and a vine that had tried to spank Fizzletuft into next Tuesday. “I hate this place,” Fizz whined, perching dramatically on a mossy rock like a sad opera singer with abandonment issues. “You hate everything that isn’t about you,” Poppy replied, ducking under a willow branch. “You hated breakfast because the jam wasn’t ‘emotionally tart’ enough.” “I have a delicate palate!” “You ate a rock yesterday!” “It looked seasoned!” Poppy paused, exhaled, and counted to ten in three different elemental languages. The Mist Came Suddenly Just as the sun speared through the canopy in a shaft of perfect golden light, the forest changed. The air thickened. The birds stopped chirping. Even the leaves held their breath. “Fizz…” Poppy whispered, her voice dipping into seriousness — a rare tone in their partnership. “Yup. I feel it. Very mysterious. Definitely spooky. Possibly cursed. A hundred percent into it.” From the mist rose a shape — tall, robed, shimmering with the same light Poppy’s wings cast. It wasn’t malevolent. Just… ancient. Familiar, somehow. And oddly floral. “You seek the Grove,” it said, voice like wind through old chimes. “Yes,” Poppy replied, stepping forward. “We need the berries. For the ritual.” “Then you must prove your bond.” Fizzletuft perked up. “Oooh! Like a trust fall? Or interpretive dance? I have wings, I can pirouette!” The figure paused. “...No. You must enter the Trial of Two.” Poppy groaned. “Please tell me it’s not the one with the mushroom maze and the accidental emotional telepathy.” Fizz squealed. “We’re gonna get in each other’s heads? FINALLY. I’ve always wondered what it’s like inside your brain. Is it full of sarcasm and leaf facts?” She turned to him slowly. “Fizz. You have five seconds to run before I turn your tail into a windchime.” He didn’t run. He launched straight upward, cackling, sparkles trailing behind him like a magical sneeze. The Trial of Two (And the Sparkle Apocalypse) The moment they crossed the veil into the Trial Grove, the world blinked. One second, Poppy was side-eyeing Fizzletuft’s attempt to rebrand himself as “Lord Wingpop the Dazzling,” and the next — She was floating. Or... falling? Hard to tell. There was mist, and colors, and an unsettling number of tiny whispering voices saying things like “oof, this one’s emotionally constipated” and “he hides his trauma under glitter.” When her feet hit the ground again — mossy, fragrant, humming slightly — she was alone. “Fizz?” No answer. “This isn’t funny!” Still nothing, until— “I CAN HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS!” Fizzletuft’s voice echoed in her skull like an overexcited squirrel with a megaphone. “This is amazing! You think in leaf metaphors! Also, you’re low-key afraid of centipedes! WE HAVE TO UNPACK THAT!” “Fizz. Focus. Trial. Sacred place. Prove our bond. Stop narrating my anxieties.” “Okay okay okay. But wait — wait. Is that... is that a DRAGON SIZED VERSION OF ME?!” The Mirrorbeast Poppy turned, heart thudding. Standing before her — impossibly elegant, coiled in winged menace and sass — was a full-grown dragonette. Rainbow-scaled. Eyes glowing. And smirking in the exact same smug way Fizzletuft did when he was about to destroy a teacup on purpose. The Mirrorbeast. “To pass,” it boomed, “you must face your fears. Each other’s. Together.” Poppy didn’t like the way it said “together.” “Oh boy,” Fizz whispered in her brain. “I just remembered something. From before we met.” “What is it?” “I don’t... I don’t know if I hatched. I mean, I did. But not... normally. There was fire. A big explosion. Screaming. Possibly a sorcerer with a toupee. And I’ve always wondered if I was... created. Not born.” She paused. “Fizz.” “I know, I know. I act like I don’t care. But I do. What if I’m not real?” She stepped closer to the Mirrorbeast. “You’re as real as it gets, you over-glittered fire noodle.” The beast growled. “And your fear, faerie?” Poppy swallowed. “That I’m too much. Too sharp. That no one will ever choose to stay.” Silence fell. Then, out of nowhere, Fizzletuft crashed through a shrub, covered in vines, eyes wide. “I CHOSE YOU.” “Fizz—” “NOPE. I CHOSE YOU. You rescued me when I was all panic and fire and tail fluff. You scolded me like a mom and cheered for me like a friend. I may be made of magic and chaos, but I’d still choose you. Every day. Even if your cooking tastes like compost pudding.” The Mirrorbeast stared. And then... chuckled. It shimmered, cracked, and burst into stardust. The Trial was over. “You have passed,” said the grove, now gently glowing. “Bond: true. Chaos: accepted. Love: weird, but real.” The Grove’s Gift They found the Moonberries — soft-glowing, silver-veined, blooming from a tree that seemed to sigh when touched. Fizzletuft only licked one. Once. Regretted it immediately. Called it “spicy sadness with a minty afterburn.” On the way home, they were quiet. Not awkward quiet. The good kind. The “we’ve seen each other’s soul clutter and still want to hang out” kind. Back in the glade, Poppy lit a lantern and leaned back against the mossy stump they both called home base. Fizzletuft curled around her shoulders like a warm, glittering scarf. “I still think we should’ve performed that interpretive dance.” “We did, Fizz.” She smiled, eyes twinkling. “We just used feelings instead of jazz hands.” He let out a contented puff of smoke. “Gross.” “I know.”     Adopt the Sass. Sparkle Your Space. If you’ve fallen for the leafy sass of Poppy and the firecracker mischief of Fizzletuft, you can now bring their story home (without setting anything on fire... probably). “The Faerie and Her Dragonette” is now available in a collection of magical merchandise that’s as vivid, cheeky, and sparkly as the duo themselves: Tapestry – Hang this vibrant fae-and-flame duo in your space and let the adventure begin with every glance. Puzzle – Piece together the magic, the mystery, and maybe some glitter tantrums. It's the perfect dragon-approved challenge. Greeting Card – Send a message as bold and sparkly as your favorite faerie fire duo. For magical birthdays, sassy thank-yous, or just saying “hey, you're fabulous.” Sticker – Slap a bit of Poppy & Fizz on your journal, laptop, or cauldron. Mischief included. Glitter optional (but encouraged). Cross-Stitch Pattern – Stitch your own enchanted moment. Perfect for crafters, faerie fans, and anyone needing an excuse to hoard sparkly thread. Claim your piece of Deepwood Glade — because some stories deserve to live on your wall, your shelf, and definitely your heart. 🧚‍♀️🐉

by Bill Tiepelman

Azure Eyes of the Celestial Dragon

In a galaxy not too far away, on a planet called Luminaris—a place that looked like an interstellar disco ball on acid—there hatched a peculiar baby dragon. His name? Glitterwing the Fourth. Not because there were three dragons before him (there weren’t), but because his mother, Queen Frostmaw the Shimmering, had a flair for drama and thought numbers made things sound royal. Glitterwing, however, had other opinions. He liked his nickname better: Steve. Steve's Grand Entrance Steve’s birth wasn’t exactly a serene, mystical moment. He cracked out of his egg with all the grace of a squirrel on caffeine, flailing his tiny limbs, his metallic scales catching the light like a disco ball having an existential crisis. His first words weren’t poetic, either. They were something along the lines of, “Ugh, this light is awful, and what is that smell?!” From the moment he hatched, Steve had one glaringly unique feature: his impossibly large, strikingly blue eyes. While most dragon hatchlings looked like a mix between a kitten and a medieval weapon, Steve looked like a giant plush toy with an attitude problem. He immediately became the center of attention in the dragon kingdom, which, as you can imagine, annoyed him to no end. “Can we all stop gawking like I’m the last pastry at the buffet? I’m just a dragon, not a fireworks display.” Destined for Greatness? Nah, Just Hungry. The elders of the dragon council, a group of ancient reptiles who spent most of their time arguing about whose hoard was shinier, declared that Steve was destined for greatness. “His scales glitter like the stars, and his eyes pierce the soul!” they proclaimed. Steve, however, had other plans. “Cool story, Grandpa, but does greatness come with snacks? Because I’m starving.” Steve quickly developed a reputation for his biting wit and his insatiable appetite. While most dragons his age were practicing fire breathing, Steve was perfecting the art of sarcastic commentary. “Oh, look, another fire-breathing competition. How original. Why don’t we try something new, like, I don’t know, competitive napping?” The Misadventures Begin Steve’s snarky attitude didn’t exactly make him popular with his peers. One particularly jealous dragonling, Blaze, challenged him to a duel. “Prepare to meet your doom, Glitterwing!” Blaze roared. Steve didn’t even flinch. “Okay, but can we schedule this after lunch? I have priorities.” When the duel finally happened, Steve won—not with strength, but by making Blaze laugh so hard he fell over and rolled into a pile of mud. “See? Humor is the real weapon,” Steve said, polishing his claws nonchalantly. Despite his reluctance, Steve’s fame grew. Adventurers from distant lands came to see the "Celestial Dragon" with the sapphire eyes. Steve found this both flattering and exhausting. “Great, another group of humans pointing sticks at me and calling them ‘weapons.’ Can someone at least bring me a sandwich this time?” The Day Steve Saved the Kingdom (Accidentally) Steve’s most famous misadventure occurred when a rival kingdom sent a group of knights to steal the dragons' treasures. While the other dragons were busy preparing for battle, Steve was busy eating his weight in moonberries. The knights stormed into the dragon cave, only to find Steve lounging on a pile of gold. “Oh, look, more tin cans. What do you guys want? Directions to the nearest McDragon’s?” The knights, thinking Steve’s enormous eyes and shimmering scales were some sort of godly warning, panicked. One knight screamed, “It’s the divine dragon of doom!” and fled. The others followed, tripping over each other in their haste. Steve blinked, confused. “Wait, that worked? Huh. Maybe I am destined for greatness. Or maybe they just didn’t want to deal with a dragon who looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.” The Legend Lives On These days, Steve spends his time napping on his hoard (which mostly consists of shiny rocks and discarded armor) and coming up with increasingly sarcastic remarks for nosy adventurers. He’s still the talk of the kingdom, much to his annoyance. “I’m not a hero,” he insists. “I’m just a dragon who happens to look fabulous.” But deep down, Steve enjoys the attention—just a little. After all, who wouldn’t want to be a glittering icon with piercing azure eyes and a knack for making knights wet their pants?     Bring Steve Home: Celestial Dragon-Inspired Products Can't get enough of Steve's snarky charm and shimmering brilliance? Now, you can bring a piece of his celestial magic into your own home with these exclusive products: Dragon Tapestry: Adorn your walls with Steve’s radiant glory, perfect for transforming any room into a mystical lair. Canvas Print: A high-quality art piece showcasing Steve’s celestial aura, ideal for dragon lovers and fantasy enthusiasts. Throw Pillow: Cozy up with Steve’s enchanting presence, a whimsical addition to your living space. Dragon Puzzle: Piece together Steve’s mesmerizing features with this fun and challenging puzzle, perfect for quiet evenings or dragon-loving gatherings. Embrace the magic of the celestial dragon and let Steve’s legacy light up your life—one sparkling scale at a time.

by Bill Tiepelman

Twinkle Scales and Holiday Tales

Snow had blanketed the forest in a thick, sparkling cover, the kind of snow that made you question every life decision leading up to a trek through it. In the middle of this wintry scene stood Marla, bundled in layers of wool and bad choices, staring at the most unexpected sight she had encountered all year: a tiny dragon, glittering like a Pinterest project gone wrong, sitting under a Christmas tree. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Marla muttered, tugging her scarf tighter against the biting wind. She had signed up for a peaceful winter hike, not whatever this magical nonsense was. The dragon, no larger than a house cat, looked up from its task of adorning the tree with ornaments. Its scales shimmered in hues of emerald, sapphire, and gold, reflecting the candlelight like an overachieving disco ball. With a dramatic flick of its tail, it placed a final ornament—a suspiciously gaudy one that looked like it belonged in the clearance bin—on a frosted branch and gave Marla a slow blink. That was when she noticed the tiny antlers on its head, as if someone had tried to cross a dragon with a reindeer. “Oh great, a magical creature with holiday cheer,” Marla said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just what I needed to make this hike even weirder.” The dragon tilted its head and chirped—a sound somewhere between a kitten's meow and a squeaky door hinge. Then it picked up a crimson ornament, waddled toward her on its tiny clawed feet, and dropped the bauble at her boots. It looked up expectantly, wings fluttering slightly, as if to say, “Well? Are you going to help or just stand there being all grumpy?” Marla sighed. She wasn’t exactly known for her love of the holidays. Every December, she battled through the chaos of last-minute gift shopping, office parties that could only be endured with copious amounts of spiked eggnog, and her family’s annual “passive-aggressive charades” night. But this… this was something else entirely. And as much as she wanted to turn around and head back to the safety of her Netflix queue, the dragon’s big, watery eyes made her hesitate. “Fine,” she said, bending down to pick up the ornament. “But if this turns into some kind of weird Hallmark movie moment, I’m out.” The dragon chirped again, clearly pleased, and scampered back to the tree. Marla followed, grumbling under her breath about how her therapist was going to have a field day with this story. As she hung the ornament on an empty branch, she noticed the tree wasn’t just decorated with the usual tinsel and baubles. Among the branches were tiny golden scrolls, clusters of mistletoe that shimmered as if dusted with real stardust, and candles that burned without melting. It was, frankly, absurd. “You’ve really committed to this theme, huh?” Marla said, glancing at the dragon. “What’s next, a tiny Santa suit?” The dragon huffed, a puff of glittering smoke escaping its nostrils, and went back to rummaging through a pile of ornaments that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere. It pulled out a miniature star, which Marla suspected was made of actual gold, and handed it to her. She placed it on the tree’s highest branch, earning a delighted trill from her new festive companion. “So, what’s the deal?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Are you some kind of Christmas mascot? An elf’s side hustle? Or am I hallucinating because I skipped breakfast?” The dragon didn’t answer, obviously, but it did do a little twirl that sent a flurry of snowflakes into the air. Marla couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright, fine. I guess you’re kind of cute, in a ‘magical chaos’ sort of way.” As they continued decorating, Marla felt her initial irritation melting away. There was something oddly therapeutic about hanging ornaments with a glittery dragon who had no concept of personal space but an undeniable enthusiasm for holiday aesthetics. By the time they finished, the tree looked like it belonged in a fantasy novel—or at least on the cover of a very expensive holiday card. “Okay,” Marla said, stepping back to admire their work. “Not bad for an impromptu partnership. But don’t expect me to—” Her words were cut off by the sound of jingling bells. She turned to see the dragon holding a string of tiny sleigh bells in its mouth, looking entirely too pleased with itself. Before she could protest, it launched into a clumsy but enthusiastic dance, shaking the bells and twirling around the tree. Marla laughed, a genuine, belly-deep laugh that she hadn’t experienced in months. “Alright, alright, you win,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’ll admit it—this is kind of fun.” As the sun dipped below the horizon, the tree began to glow softly, its ornaments casting a warm, magical light across the snowy clearing. Marla sat down next to the dragon, who curled up at her side with a contented chirp. For the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of peace—and maybe even a little holiday spirit. “You know,” she said, stroking the dragon’s shimmering scales, “I might actually survive Christmas this year. But if you tell anyone I got all sentimental over a magical dragon, I’ll deny it. Got it?” The dragon snorted, sending another puff of glittering smoke into the air, and closed its eyes. Marla leaned back, watching the stars emerge one by one in the winter sky, and let herself smile. Maybe, just maybe, this holiday season wouldn’t be so bad after all.     Bring the Magic Home If you fell in love with this whimsical tale, why not bring a touch of the magic into your own home? "Twinkle Scales and Holiday Tales" is now available as a variety of stunning products to suit any space or occasion. Choose from the following options: Tapestries – Perfect for transforming any wall into a festive winter wonderland. Canvas Prints – Add an elegant touch to your décor with this magical scene. Puzzles – Bring some holiday cheer to family game night with this enchanting dragon design. Greeting Cards – Send a touch of whimsy and warmth to your loved ones this season. Explore these and more at our shop and celebrate the magic of the season in style!

by Bill Tiepelman

Blossoms of Friendship in the Dragon's Meadow

In a hidden valley where the air shimmered with the golden hues of perpetual spring, there lived a dragon unlike any other. Pyrelle, as he was called, was not the fearsome kind of dragon that haunted the stories of old. Instead, his scales were adorned with blossoms, and his deep, amber eyes held a warmth that calmed even the wildest hearts. The villagers at the edge of the valley revered him as a protector, though few had ever seen him up close. Fewer still had ever dared to approach him. That was, until Lily stumbled into his meadow. An Unlikely Meeting Lily was a spirited child of seven, with curls as wild as the dandelions that swayed in the meadows surrounding her small village. She had an uncanny knack for wandering into places she wasn’t supposed to go, her pockets always stuffed with petals and rocks she deemed “special.” Her latest adventure had taken her farther than she intended, her tiny boots crunching through fields of vibrant pink and purple blooms that seemed to whisper in the breeze. And then, she saw him. Pyrelle lay stretched out beneath a tree that sparkled with crystalline blossoms, his massive body curled protectively around its roots. His scales shimmered with an iridescent glow, each one seemingly etched with delicate floral patterns. His eyes opened as Lily froze mid-step, a single flower clasped tightly in her tiny hand. “You’re… you’re real,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. The dragon tilted his head, an amused rumble vibrating in his throat. “And you are quite bold for someone so small,” he replied, his voice deep but gentle, like the murmur of a distant storm. A Blossoming Friendship Lily’s initial fear melted as quickly as it had come. She took a hesitant step forward, then another, her eyes wide with wonder. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her words tumbling out with the innocent sincerity only a child could muster. “Do you like flowers? I found this one by the stream. It’s my favorite.” To her surprise, Pyrelle lowered his head, his enormous nostrils flaring as he sniffed the tiny bloom in her hand. “A purple petunia,” he mused. “Rare in these parts. You have a good eye.” Her face lit up with a smile so radiant it rivaled the sun. “You know flowers?” “I’ve lived among them for centuries,” Pyrelle said, his voice tinged with quiet pride. “They keep me company when the world outside grows too loud.” From that day on, Lily became a regular visitor to Pyrelle’s meadow. The villagers, though uneasy at first, soon realized the dragon meant her no harm. In fact, her presence seemed to soften him even more. Together, Lily and Pyrelle explored the valley’s hidden corners, discovering flowers that only bloomed in moonlight, streams that sparkled like liquid silver, and trees that hummed softly when touched. The Guardian’s Lesson One day, as they sat by a pond filled with lilies so white they seemed to glow, Lily asked, “Why do you stay here, Pyrelle? Don’t you get lonely?” The dragon sighed, his breath rippling the pond’s surface. “I have seen the outside world, Lily. Its noise, its chaos. It is a place where people fear what they don’t understand. Here, I am safe. Here, I am at peace.” Lily frowned, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it between her fingers. “But maybe if they knew you, they wouldn’t be afraid.” Pyrelle chuckled softly. “Perhaps. But fear is a stubborn thing, little one. It takes more than a dragon’s beauty to undo it.” She looked up at him, her eyes shining with determination. “I’m not afraid. And if I’m not, maybe others won’t be either.” Shared Laughter Their conversation was interrupted by the loud croak of a toad that had leapt onto Pyrelle’s tail. Lily burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the meadow. “Even the toads aren’t scared of you!” she said between giggles. Pyrelle turned his head to inspect the small creature, who seemed entirely unbothered by the towering dragon. “Perhaps they have better sense than people,” he said, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. A Bond Forever Over time, Lily’s visits began to change not only Pyrelle but also the villagers. They saw the way she returned from the valley, her hands filled with flowers and her stories brimming with joy. Slowly, curiosity replaced fear, and one by one, they ventured into the meadow—not to confront the dragon, but to thank him for watching over them. Pyrelle, though still wary, allowed their approach. He even began to enjoy the company, especially when the children joined Lily in her adventures. Together, they turned his meadow into a sanctuary of laughter, learning, and love. The Heart of the Meadow Years later, long after Lily had grown, she returned to the valley with her own child, a little girl with the same wild curls and wonder-filled eyes. Pyrelle was there, as she knew he would be, his scales as radiant as ever. He greeted her with a soft rumble, his gaze warm with recognition. “Welcome home, Lily,” he said. And as her daughter ran to meet the great dragon, laughing as Lily once had, the meadow bloomed brighter than ever, a testament to the enduring power of friendship and the beauty of understanding the unknown.    Bring "Blossoms of Friendship in the Dragon's Meadow" Into Your World Celebrate the heartwarming story of Pyrelle and Lily with these beautifully crafted products. Each piece captures the magic and charm of their friendship, perfect for those who cherish stories of connection and wonder: Cross-Stitch Pattern – Immerse yourself in the magic with this intricate design, perfect for stitchers who love combining storytelling and art. Tapestry – Transform your space with this vibrant and enchanting fabric piece, showcasing the beauty of the meadow and its unique bond. Throw Pillow – Add a cozy and magical touch to your home with this beautifully designed pillow, perfect for any room. Puzzle – Piece together the warmth and beauty of Pyrelle and Lily’s story with this delightful and engaging puzzle.

by Bill Tiepelman

The Littlest Flame: A Dragon's Heartwarming Beginnings

In the vast kingdom of Elderwyn, home to towering castles, enchanted forests, and creatures of legend, something extraordinary happened one quiet morning. No, it wasn’t the usual kind of extraordinary—the kind with knights rescuing maidens or wizards hurling fireballs. This was different. This was the day that a very small, very adorable dragon decided to make its debut. Meet Smidge. And yes, that’s exactly what he was—a smidge of a dragon, no bigger than a loaf of bread. But don’t let the size fool you. Smidge had big dreams, despite being born in the smallest egg of the clutch. His brothers and sisters had all hatched into impressive little fire-breathers, already causing minor property damage to the local village (a rite of passage for any dragon, really). Smidge, however, had yet to produce more than a puff of smoke and some particularly aggressive hiccups. “You’ll get there, Smidge,” his mother, a glorious red-scaled dragon named Seraphina, would say in her deep, echoing voice. “It just takes time.” Smidge wasn’t so sure. While his siblings were off practicing their flame control, he was busy... well, trying not to trip over his own feet. His legs seemed too long for his body, his wings flapped more like a startled chicken’s than anything majestic, and his fire? Let’s just say no marshmallows were getting roasted any time soon. The Quest for Fire (And Not Burning Himself in the Process) Determined to prove himself, Smidge set off on a mission. It wasn’t a typical “slay the knight, hoard the treasure” kind of mission. No, Smidge had something much simpler in mind: learn to breathe fire without sneezing. It was a modest goal, but you had to start somewhere. He waddled out of the cave early one morning, waving goodbye to his siblings, who were busy setting a small forest on fire (totally accidental, of course). Smidge’s journey was one of discovery. He needed to find a quiet spot, away from distractions, where he could really focus on his fire-breathing technique. “Ah, here we go,” Smidge muttered, stumbling upon a clearing in the forest. It was peaceful, with the sun filtering through the trees, birds chirping, and most importantly, nothing that could accidentally catch fire—except maybe a few shrubs, but sacrifices had to be made. Smidge squared his little shoulders, took a deep breath, and... poof. A tiny puff of smoke escaped his nostrils. Well, it was better than last time, when nothing but a few weak sparks fizzled out. He puffed his chest out, feeling rather proud. “Alright, let’s go again,” he said, this time putting every bit of effort he had into it. He inhaled deeply, focused, and—achoo! The sneeze came out of nowhere, and with it, a burst of flame that wasn’t quite forward-facing. Instead, the flames engulfed his own tail. “Yow!” Smidge yelped, hopping in circles, frantically patting out the flames with his tiny claws. After a few minutes of awkward tail-chasing, the fire was out, but his pride had taken a hit. “That,” he muttered, “could have gone better.” Making Friends (or, How Not to Burn Bridges) Despite the hiccups (and sneezes), Smidge wasn’t about to give up. He just needed a bit of help—some guidance. And so, he set off deeper into the forest, hoping to find someone who might teach him the ancient art of dragon fire-breathing. What he found instead... was Barry. Barry was a troll. Not the menacing, bridge-guarding kind of troll, though. No, Barry was more of a “tree-hugging, amateur painter” kind of troll. He stood about 12 feet tall, with moss growing on his back and a pair of reading glasses perched precariously on the end of his bulbous nose. “Hi!” Smidge chirped, looking up at the towering troll. “I’m Smidge. Can you help me learn to breathe fire?” Barry squinted down at the tiny dragon, one mossy eyebrow raised. “Fire, you say? Hm. Not really my specialty, kid. I’m more into watercolors.” He gestured to a nearby easel, where an interpretive painting of what Smidge assumed was a tree stood. It mostly looked like a blob with branches. “Oh,” Smidge said, his tiny wings drooping. “Well... thanks anyway.” Barry sighed, scratching his head. “Look, kid, I may not know much about fire-breathing, but I do know about practice. That’s what painting is, really. Practice. You just gotta keep at it. Eventually, you’ll figure it out.” Smidge tilted his head, considering the troll’s advice. “Practice, huh? That’s it?” “Yep,” Barry replied with a shrug. “And, uh, maybe don’t set yourself on fire next time.” Smidge couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.” The Littlest Flame Ignites With Barry’s advice echoing in his head, Smidge returned to his clearing and tried again. Days passed, and though his flames were still small and sputtering, they were growing. He only set his tail on fire twice more, and there were no major forest fires—just a few smoking bushes. One evening, as the sun began to set, Smidge felt different. He had been practicing all day, and though he was tired, something inside him felt ready. He stood tall (well, as tall as a baby dragon could), focused on the horizon, and took the deepest breath yet. Flame surged from his mouth, a beautiful, controlled stream of fire that lit up the sky in shades of gold and red. Smidge blinked in surprise. Had he just... done it? “I DID IT!” he shouted, hopping up and down in excitement. “I’M A REAL DRAGON!” At that moment, his mother appeared, her massive wings casting a shadow over the clearing. “I knew you could do it,” she said proudly, watching her littlest flame with a smile. “You just needed to find your spark.” The Future of the Littlest Flame And so, with his newfound fire-breathing ability, Smidge became a legend in his own right—not for his size, but for his heart. He wasn’t the biggest or the most powerful dragon in Elderwyn, but he was certainly the most determined. And that, as any dragon will tell you, is the secret to greatness. As for Barry, well, he continued painting his abstract masterpieces. Smidge, now a proud fire-breathing dragon, made sure to stop by every now and then to check in on his favorite troll, usually offering him a little flame to dry his watercolors. Because that’s what friends are for—helping each other, whether with flames, brushes, or a little bit of encouragement. Smidge might have started as the littlest flame, but he knew one thing for sure: the world was about to see just how bright even the smallest dragon could shine.    Bring a Piece of Smidge's World Home If the heartwarming adventures of Smidge, the littlest flame, brightened your day, why not bring a bit of that joy into your own space? Whether you’re looking for something whimsical to decorate your home or a playful gift for someone special, we’ve got just the right items to capture Smidge’s charm. The Littlest Flame Puzzle – Piece together the adorable world of Smidge, one puzzle piece at a time. It’s the perfect way to relax while celebrating the little dragon who lights up our hearts. The Littlest Flame Tote Bag – Carry a bit of Smidge’s playful spirit with you wherever you go. This tote is perfect for your everyday essentials, and it comes with an extra dash of dragon-sized cuteness! The Littlest Flame Tapestry – Transform your space with this vibrant tapestry featuring Smidge, the little dragon with a big heart. Perfect for adding a whimsical touch to any room! The Littlest Flame Metal Print – Elevate your decor with this stunning metal print. Smidge’s colorful world will shine beautifully on your walls, capturing the spirit of adventure and fun. Each product brings Smidge’s delightful story to life, making it easy to keep his uplifting energy around you. Whether it's a puzzle for a quiet afternoon or a tote bag for your daily adventures, Smidge is ready to brighten your world. Explore more at Unfocussed Shop!

by Bill Tiepelman

The Flame-Furred Dragonling

In the quiet, maple-scented corner of the Everamber Woods, something far from quiet was about to happen. It all began when a certain someone—let’s call him Boris the Nearly Brave—decided that dragons were nothing more than oversized chickens with fire breath. "I’ll make my fortune selling flame-proof armor," he’d declare, waving his sword around in the village tavern, entirely forgetting he’d spent the last three years cowering from squirrels. But fate, as it tends to do, had other plans. Plans that involved tiny claws, fiery pink fur, and an ego-deflating encounter in the heart of autumn’s most beautiful, and least predictable, forest. The Trouble with Eggs Boris, fueled by one too many tankards of mead and even more bad decisions, set out on an epic quest—well, a quest anyway—to find dragon eggs. The village rumor mill had been in overdrive: someone had spotted a strange glow in Everamber Woods. And since Boris was running out of excuses to avoid his debts, he figured, "Why not? Maybe I’ll find an egg, maybe I’ll die. Either way, it's less embarrassing than borrowing more coin from Granny Norgle." So off he trudged, swinging his sword at nothing in particular, and muttering about becoming the most famous dragonslayer this side of the River of Regret (a fitting name, considering his future). The deeper he ventured into the woods, the more brilliant the autumn colors became—reds, oranges, and yellows swirling in the wind, as if the trees themselves were on fire. And at the heart of it all, nestled between two particularly ancient-looking oaks, was an egg. Now, you’d think Boris would be suspicious about an unguarded, glowing egg just lying in a bed of autumn leaves. You’d think he’d stop to ask, "Where’s the giant, fire-breathing mother that laid this thing?" But no, Boris—drunk on mead and ego—picked up the egg and stuffed it in his satchel like it was a stolen loaf of bread. The Hatchling Awakens For a good five minutes, Boris was convinced he’d won. He could already picture himself strutting through the village, selling dragon omelets for a fortune. But then the egg began to crack. A faint glow seeped through the fissures, followed by a high-pitched chirp. This, of course, was the part where Boris panicked. "Stay in there, you overgrown lizard!" he shouted, as if that would stop nature from taking its course. And then—pop!—out came the strangest creature Boris had ever seen. It wasn’t quite the fearsome dragon of legends. No, this little beast had fluffy, vibrant pink fur, big soulful eyes, and wings that looked like they belonged more on a bat that had partied too hard than a dragon of terror. Its scales glittered, but in an oddly adorable way, and its tiny horns curled like it was still deciding whether to be cute or dangerous. The baby dragon blinked at Boris, then promptly sneezed. A puff of smoke curled out of its nostrils and, as luck would have it, ignited the nearest pile of leaves. Boris jumped back, flailing as if he’d been shot at by a crossbow. The dragonling, however, just sat there, wagging its tail like a puppy who’d discovered fire for the first time. "Great," Boris muttered. "Not only did I find a dragon, but it’s defective." The Unlikely Partnership Now, most people would’ve left the pink, fluffy ball of destruction right there in the forest. But Boris, ever the opportunist, figured there might still be a way to profit from this. Maybe he could train it to breathe fire on command, torch a few bandits, or at least keep his feet warm at night. He named the dragonling Fizzle, because that’s all it seemed capable of—small bursts of smoke, little pops of fire, and an uncontrollable knack for setting things ablaze that shouldn't be ablaze, like Boris’s beard. It turned out that Fizzle wasn’t just a dragon. He was a flame-furred, overly affectionate, extremely curious dragonling who thought everything was food, including Boris’s sword. "Stop chewing that, you oversized squirrel!" Boris would yell, yanking the blade away before Fizzle reduced it to scrap metal. But Fizzle would only blink those big, innocent eyes, as if to say, "What? Me? I’m just a baby." And that, dear reader, is how Boris the Nearly Brave became the babysitter to the least threatening, most destructive dragonling in history. The Quest for the Great Dragon Mother As the days turned into weeks, Boris and Fizzle became an odd pair. The dragonling grew—not in size (because let’s face it, Boris’s luck wouldn’t allow him to raise a proper dragon)—but in curiosity and chaos. Every day was a new adventure in avoiding complete disaster. One time, Fizzle ignited a cart of hay in the middle of town, sending Boris scrambling to explain why the "big, scary dragon" looked more like a stuffed toy gone wrong. "It’s not dangerous! I swear!" he shouted to the mob with pitchforks. "It’s... uh... just playing!" The villagers were, understandably, not convince    Bring Home the Chaos and Cuteness If raising a dragonling like Fizzle seems a bit too much, don’t worry—you can still bring a piece of his fiery charm into your life without the singed eyebrows. Check out these delightful items featuring the legendary Flame-Furred Dragonling: Throw Pillow – Cozy up with this vibrant and whimsical throw pillow, featuring Fizzle in all his pink-furred glory. A perfect touch of magical mayhem for your living room. Tapestry – Transform any space with the warm, autumn vibes of this stunning tapestry, featuring the adorable and mischievous dragonling. It’s like bringing a piece of Everamber Woods into your home—minus the accidental fires. Fleece Blanket – Stay warm (just like Boris tried to!) with this ultra-soft fleece blanket. Curl up under its magical design and let Fizzle keep you cozy without the risk of unexpected flame bursts. Tote Bag – Take a bit of dragon mischief on the go with this enchanting tote bag, perfect for your adventures—whether you’re braving the woods or just heading to the market. Whether you’re an aspiring dragonslayer or just a fan of fiery cuteness, these items will let you carry the spirit of Fizzle with you, without the need for flameproof armor. Shop now and add a little dragonling charm to your life!